


Honey

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: LAOFT Extras [54]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Making Out, Public Kissing, Underage Drinking, Virgil is a shameless flirt when he's drunk basically, Well actually virgil's definitely not underage but everyone else is, sexual innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 15:23:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20245033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: Remy poisons Virgil.And Virgil is entirely too stoked about it.





	Honey

**Author's Note:**

> for this prompt from [@sea-blue-child](sea-blue-child.tumblr.com) over on tumblr:
> 
> "So you think you could do a loaft fic thingy about Remy and Virgil interacting? I just wanna know how their sass levels compare"
> 
> And this one from a nonnie:
> 
> “I just had a vivid mental image of Spider Prince Virgil getting drunk and waxing poetic about his boyfriends, who’re torn between amusement and blushing because wow Virgil is descriptive and maybe borderline risqué.”

“Drink this,”

Virgil paused, then slowly turned to look at the teenager standing over him.

“Excuse me?”

Remy’s hands were just barely shaking, and he had a mason jar held out. But his gaze was steady, and he was smiling. He certainly didn’t look like he’d just casually ordered the Lord of the Forest to consume an unknown substance.

“Drink. This,” said Remy.

“Why the hell should I?”

“You a coward, V?”

“Are you suicidal, Remy?”

Remy winced a tad, but he didn’t stop grinning.

“It’s a honey mead,” said Remy, “Never made it before, so it might be terrible,”

“You’re not a very good salesman,” said Virgil dryly.

“It’s for Logan’s birthday,” said Remy, grinning, “You’re my test subject,”

Virgil stared at him.

“Gimme the damn jar,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry,” said Remy smugly, “I’ll try not to go around tellin’ everyone the Lord of the Forest is totally whipped,”

“Keep it up and I _will_ tell the whole town you’re whipped,” said Virgil, sipping the sweet liquid, “Oh, wait – everybody already knows,”

Remy’s face turned pink.

“Decent?” he said.

Virgil wiped a stray drop from the corner of his mouth.

“Decent. Good, actually. Sweet,”

“Yeah, I know you Good Neighbors have a sweet tooth so I way overdid it on the honey-to-yeast ratio.

“Good call,” said Virgil, taking another sip. And then another, just to make sure.

“Slow down, man, there’s enough booze in there to lay a human out and enough honey to knock you unconscious,”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Do I look like I just walked out of the dark and air?” he said, ignoring Remy’s muttering about “weird-ass fair folk idioms,” and giving him an unimpressed look, “I guarantee any _booze_ a mortal made is hardly a _hazard_ to me,”

Remy just about beamed.

“Famous last words,” he said, gleeful.

Virgil scoffed, and took another drink.

* * *

Roman was in the middle of explaining a warding charm to Elliot – they were never going to be able to abandon oven mitts, but they were remarkably adept at magic for someone who _wasn’t_ fireproof – and then strong arms looped around his waist and someone cool and solid tucked their face into Roman’s neck.

“V?” he said cautiously.

“Hmm?”

Roman turned his head a bit, quizzical.

“Are you okay?”

Virgil hummed again, nuzzling Roman’s jaw and Elliot snickered across from them.

And then Virgil pressed an open-mouth kiss to the spot, and Elliot turned bright pink, babbling some painfully transparent excuse and bolting.

Roman was equally red, and he twisted in Virgil’s arms until he could see his face.

His blush immediately ratcheted up another setting. Virgil staring down at him with an expression that could only be described as awe.

But his eyes were slightly out of focus, and his face was flushed. He was swaying, and Roman gave him an incredulous look.

“Are you _drunk_?”

Virgil considered, still staring.

“Think so,” he said – mumbled, really – though he didn’t seem to care, “Your friend. The brewer,”

“_Remy_ gave you alcohol?” said Roman.

A pause, then -

“And it _worked?_”

“I’m not immune to alcohol,”

“Yeah but I’ve never seen you drink enough of it to get _this_ sloshed,”

“Sloshed,” said Virgil, “Strange word. Lotta strange words in the future,”

“Oh. My god,” said Roman, beaming, “You are _plastered_,”

“Why so many different words for drunk?” Virgil muttered, “And it was… alcohol and honey. Mead, he said,”

Frowning, he leaned in closer.

“Don’t tell Logan,” he said seriously, “It’s a surprise. I’m testing it,”

Roman smile softened.

“You’re doing a fantastic job,” he teased.

Virgil hummed again, reaching up to run his fingertips through Roman’s hair.

“Have I ever told you,” he started, “That your hair is not brown?”

“No,” said Roman, amused, “And I don’t know how you could, considering it _is_ brown,”

Virgil shook his head.

“S’not,” he slurred, “S’not just brown,”

“Yeah?”

“Here,” said Virgil, grabbing a single strand so delicately Roman didn’t even feel it, “Red. Like those… sweet cherries you gave me,”

He took another.

“Copper, like a new penny,”

Roman was starting to develop a lump in his throat.

“Oak wood, here, and then acorn-colored,” he continued, now just carding his fingers through Roman’s hair, “Mahogany and – chocolate and cinnamon and caramel-”

“Virgil,” said Roman, a little breathless.

“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered, “So beautiful, it’s impossible –_brown_, it’s ridiculous, how anybody could look at you and see _brown-”_

And then Virgil rushed forward and kissed him so enthusiastically he lifted Roman off his feet.

Roman gave startled noise, wrapping his arms tight around Virgil’s neck to balance himself, standing on the barest tips of his toes and supporting none of his own weight. Virgil had one hand around his waist and one between his shoulder blades, and he squeezed Roman tighter until they were pressed together from hip to chest.

“_Virgil_,” Roman gasped, breaking away a trying to maintain his train of thought when Virgil just moved on to his neck, “Babe, we- we are in _public_,”

“I can fix that,” Virgil said, dark with promise.

“I sure hope so,”

Virgil pulled away from Roman and looked down, where Patton was wearing smile that looked just a little giddy around the edges.

“Are we putting on a show?” he said coyly.

Logan was crimson from his neckline to his forehead behind Patton, alternating between sheepishly looking off into the trees around Remy’s house and eyeing Roman’s neck, where there was almost certainly a significant amount of color that had not been there five minutes ago.

“Definitely _not_,” said Roman, “We’re gonna take Virgil back and ban Remy from giving him anything without one of us present ever again,”

“Love,” Virgil whined, “It’s a _secret_,”

Patton giggled, reaching for Virgil’s hand and kissing it, successfully distracting him.

“Let’s go home, honey,” he said sweetly.

And he led them all off into the trees.

* * *

In spite of Virgil’s clearly delirious insistence it was a secret, it wasn’t hard for Logan to figure out that Remy had given him something specifically designed to be exceptionally effective on fae physiology.

Logan was either going to kill him or give him some kind of medal. He hadn’t decided yet.

“I don’t like that lavender tea your mother makes,” said Virgil.

“I’m aware,” said Logan.

“I like the jasmine,” he continued.

Logan’s eyebrow furrowed.

“You _hate_ the jasmine,” said Logan incredulously, “You drank it once and refused to touch it again,”

Virgil wasn’t quite intoxicated enough that he needed support – which was impressive, because he was pretty _spectacularly_ so – but Logan and Roman had looped their arms around Virgil’s anyway, just in case. Patton, as the one of them most familiar with the path back to fairyland, was leading Roman by the hand and mostly watching the path.

In spite of this, both he and Roman had turned bright red opposite him.

“I love the jasmine,” said Virgil, “I love you,”

“That is a non-sequitur,” said Logan.

“Isn’t,” Virgil insisted, “You taste like jasmine,”

Logan’s heart stuttered in his chest. Clearing his throat, he shook his head.

“I was under the impression the three of you believed me to more closely resembled marjoram,”

“Yeah, most of the time,” said Virgil, smirking.

“_Virgil,_” Roman hissed.

“What?” said Logan.

“I make it a game, sometimes,” said Virgil, leaning over to speak directly against Logan’s ear, a slow and rumbling bass, “See how quick I can get it to change,”

“I-”

Logan couldn’t seem to speak, and as he began to get the feeling he understood where Virgil was going with this line of reasoning he began to feel distinctly feverish.

“There it is,” Virgil hummed, “Love you blushing. Color of flower petals. Dogwood blossoms and fresh carnations,”

“Goodness _gracious_,” Logan muttered.

“Bet you taste so good right now,” he breathed, and a zip of electricity ran up Logan’s spine.

Maybe he could give Remy the medal, _then_ kill him, Logan thought a little hysterically.

“Do you wanna kiss me?” Virgil pleaded.

“Of course I want to kiss you, but you are-”

Logan swallowed firmly.

“You are _distinctly_ out of sorts and- I believe more than a brief kiss would be irresponsible of me,”

“Then give me a _brief one_,”

Virgil was smirking down at him, clearly being as deceptive as a fae could possibly be, and Logan could no more have denied him in that moment than he could have swallowed a tablespoon of salt.

Stopping them both, he managed “Alright, _brie-_” before Virgil lunged forward and licked into Logan’s still open mouth, and the word died on a strangled moan.

Virgil reached up and tugged Logan’s hair, and the pitched noise in the back of Logan’s throat in response made Virgil drag his teeth slowly across Logan’s bottom lip.

And then Virgil pulled back.

“There,” he said breathlessly, “_Brief_,”

Logan felt slightly unsteady on his feet.

Definitely the medal, and then killing.

* * *

Roman and Logan managed to maneuver Virgil onto the bed. Virgil was being pretty… well, _saucy,_ but Patton was at least grateful that he seemed to understand they were definitely _not_ going to be doing more than kissing him.

And he was _very_ keen on getting them to kiss him.

“Patton, love,” he said, just this side of whining, “Don’t leave me hanging,”

Patton sighed, exasperated.

“You’re really not gonna behave at all are you?” he asked, though he could at least be honest and admit he didn’t sound all that upset about it.

Virgil grinned, not answering, and Patton shook his head, leaning down to give him another kiss.

Virgil did actually behave a little better this time (even if Patton wasn’t really sure if the slow, languid kiss was meant to be _behaving _so much as getting Patton even _more_ riled up – if it was the second, it was, unfortunately, working) and he slid one hand down Patton’s forearm to lace their fingers together.

Patton pulled back, sitting on the edge of the bed, but he didn’t make Virgil give him back his hand. Roman was behind him, his chin hooked over Patton’s shoulder, and Logan was next to Virgil with his back to the headboard.

Virgil seemed happy to fiddle with Patton’s fingers, and Patton allowed himself to close his eyes and lean back into Roman. It probably wouldn’t be too long before Virgil passed out, but Patton was pretty sure nobody was leaving until he did.

And then Virgil abruptly lifted Patton’s arm and nipped sharply at his wrist bone.

It was a bit of a dirty trick and they both knew it, but knowing didn’t stop Patton from moaning like someone had flipped a switch. Roman cursed behind him and Logan made a fist in the hem of his shirt.

“Fuck,” Virgil gasped.

“_Virgil_,” Patton admonished.

“What?” Virgil replied, looking up at Patton with his pupils blown wide, “I love it when you make pretty noises. I love your voice,”

Patton went rigid.

“Don’t do that,” Virgil whispered, sitting up and leaning in close, “It’s beautiful,”

“You’re drunk,” said Patton quietly, “And you’re being a little ridiculous,”

“It is,”

“Virgil…”

“Everything you say sounds like music,” said Virgil, nipping Patton’s wrist again so Patton had to bite his lip to keep from making a noise, “Poetry, like a love song every time you speak,”

Patton’s eyes were burning. Roman looped one hand around his waist, squeezing.

“I love it,” said Virgil, “I could spend hours trying to see just how many different sounds I could get you to make-”

Patton lunged, kissing Virgil again because he couldn’t stand it, Virgil had to _stop talking_, but Patton really didn’t want him to ever stop talking, actually, and kissing him seemed like a decent compromise.

“How about you go to sleep,” he said softly when they parted, “And we’ll see what we can do about that in the morning?”

Virgil grinned.

“I better fall asleep quick, then,” he said coyly.

“Yeah,” Patton breathed, “You _really_ should,”

**Author's Note:**

> you can also find me at [@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors](tulipscomeinalsortsofcolors.tumblr.com) over on tumblr!


End file.
